


Do Scarecrows Dream of Magic Kisses?

by littlerebellionthatcould



Category: Wicked - Schwartz/Holzman
Genre: F/M, Fluff and Angst, Just some chicken soup for the quarantined soul, Post-Canon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-26
Updated: 2020-03-26
Packaged: 2021-03-01 04:42:19
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,276
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23329429
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/littlerebellionthatcould/pseuds/littlerebellionthatcould
Summary: True love’s kiss can break spells, or maybe not. True love will just have to be enough by itself. Post-musical oneshot.
Relationships: Elphaba Thropp & Fiyero Tigelaar, Elphaba Thropp/Fiyero Tigelaar
Comments: 1
Kudos: 48





	Do Scarecrows Dream of Magic Kisses?

The early morning sunlight streamed into the formerly abandoned outpost on the border between the Badlands and the Kingdom of Ev. Whatever circumstances had led to its abandonment, the fleeing occupants had left the quarters furnished and very temporarily livable for two exiled traitors of Oz. 

“Hey Fae, y’know that bookshelf in the main room? I was reading something last night that made me think of you.”

Elphaba turned her attention from her humble breakfast of bread and foraged fruits, to the animated scarecrow entering the kitchen. She raised her eyebrows good-naturedly. “Good morning to you, too. You were _reading_?” 

The scarecrow sloughed off her mild jab. “What else am I supposed to do at night while you’re sleeping?”

“Stay away from candlelight!”

He groaned like a child being chastised by his mother. “I am! The small flames aren’t bad. Anyway, the reading wasn’t the point. It was a story where a magic spell turned a prince into a frog, and a kiss from a princess turns him back into a human.” She stared at him but did not comment. “You see where I’m going with this?” His painted, angular eyebrows waggled suggestively.

The green girl’s expression furrowed thoughtfully. “Is this a true story? Was it a witch who turned him into a frog in the first place? What was the source of the spell? Did the princess have magic too, or—”

“Elphaba! Not where I was going at all!”

“You want me...to kiss you...?” she ventured slowly. Her lover nodded triumphantly. She sighed. “Yero, I... I don’t think it’s that kind of spell. I’m sorry.” 

She elected not to mention that the cursed magic of the Grimmerie that she had used to transform him was far more tenacious than the whimsical magic of children’s stories. 

The straw man seemed to deflate a little. “You won’t even try?”

Her heart sank. She got the impression that he had set up this interaction simply because he was desperate for physical contact. She could not imagine what he was going through, and it was her fault. The guilt wracked her at every moment of every day since their exile, though she never brought it up, nor did he. They both seemed to wordlessly agree that finding safety was more immediately important than finding a way to fix what she had done. “I don’t want to get your hopes up. And I didn’t think you could even feel that kind of thing!”

He smiled gently and closed the distance between them, wrapping his arms around her in an embrace as they touched foreheads, a grounding gesture they did often when Elphaba’s anxiety started to overcome her. He smelled like hay, and the texture of his burlap face was rough, but she derived a lot of comfort from his warmth enveloping her. It was a reminder that he was still here with her, after she thought she had lost him forever — he was the only one who came back to her. “I can’t feel this either, but it still means something,” he murmured between them. 

They held each other a bit longer until Elphaba finally stepped away from Fiyero’s hold, only to resolutely grip his shoulders and pull him into a deep kiss. In truth, she hoped she hadn’t missed his mouth, which was but a line of stitching under his protruding nose. All she could feel was the rough burlap, the taste of the dusty silage. But she was recalling that night in the Great Gillikin Forest, when they were first on the run, and time was moving so fast and so slow that it unraveled. The only two things that existed to move the universe were their bodies melding into each other. Even the memory exhilarated her.

She pulled back expectantly, the small part of her broken heart that still dared to hope beating hard in her chest. The scarecrow, smiling in his dopey way, watched his gloved hand and waited for something to happen. So did she. Nothing did.

“Maybe it takes a few minutes,” he laughed, conveying amusement instead of disappointment.

The witch chuckled back nervously. “I told you, breaking the spell is a bit more complicated than that! Incantations are involved, some hand gesturing, at least.”

Fiyero crossed his arms and shrugged, “Then I guess you kissed a scarecrow for no reason. How does that make you feel?” He grinned a cheeky grin, and she was at ease by his seeming to be satisfied with just the act in itself.

She returned his mischievous look. “Like your stupidity is rubbing off on me.”

“Unfortunately, you’re stuck with me.”

She poked him on his nose. “Upon the revelation that my kisses are decidedly non-magical, we’ve no choice but to carry on as the world’s oddest couple.”

“Hm, I never said your kisses weren’t magic. I felt it, deep in my soul. It reminds me of who I used to be. Thank you for humoring me.”

He was trying to be comforting, but the pang of guilt came rushing back. She bit her bottom lip, took his hand — it was limp at his side, like a doll — and held it tightly. “I’ll get you back to the way you were. I promise! I won’t rest until I find another way. There’s _always_ another way.”

“I don’t doubt it,” the straw man was still smiling, shaking his head. “That’s not what I meant. I don’t blame you for the way things turned out, and if anyone can find a way to fix things, it’s you. But there are more important things to attend to right now. The Animals who fled Oz...we have to find them and help them, right?” She nodded at his words. “That’s what all of this was for. We have to finish that fight.”

A hint of a tear welled up in Elphaba’s eye before she sniffled and quickly wiped it away. “Argh,” she scoffed at herself, laughing off her emotional display. The scarecrow frowned and cocked his head, confused at having made her react that way. Before he could ask her, she answered him: “It’s nothing. You just said ‘we’ and I didn’t expect it to hit me so hard. I’m just grateful to not be doing this alone.” 

Fiyero’s stitched mouth stretched wide and crooked. “Of course. I’m only sorry it took me so long. You’ve had to do everything by yourself...” _I wish I could be more useful than I am._

“Having you here now is enough,” she said, sensing his insecurity. “And having a future full of hardships is a small price to pay for having a future with you at all.”

“Well, now you’ll make _me_ cry,” he replied sheepishly. Though he could not actually cry, the scarecrow’s mouth twisted in a zigzagged line, a cartoonish reaction brought about when he was feeling more than his canvassed face could portray. The overwhelmed expression made Elphaba laugh. He couldn’t help his clownish movements, but he considered it a benefit that it tended to delight people rather than horrify them. Making her laugh was one of the few things he could offer her in his current state.

“And you’re right,” she added, surprising him by giving him a peck on his cheek, “that I shouldn’t be afraid of showing affection just because it isn’t practical. You’ll have to be patient with me on that.” 

Fiyero’s glove rested on the spot she kissed, his smile pronouncing the circular blushes that all scarecrows seemed to have accentuating their cheeks. “I’ve got all the time in the world,” he beamed. His mischievous look returned. “And a whole bookshelf to get more ideas from...”


End file.
